The next morning, around 6:00 AM, Elijah's internal clock woke him, a habit ingrained from his days in the countryside. He stirred and immediately felt something hard beside him. He looked over and, with a flush of embarrassment, realized that he had been sticking to the man all night. His ears turned red as he slowly shifted away, careful not to disturb him.

  After a moment, Elijah got out of bed, spshed some cold water on his face to shake off the lingering sleepiness, and made his way to the kitchen. He prepared a light breakfast—soft scrambled eggs, a slice of toast, and a small bowl of warm porridge. After eating, he returned to the room, gnced at the man, and gently touched his forehead to check for any sign of fever.

  Seeing that he was still asleep, Elijah left a note on the side table beside the man.

  *************************

  The sound of the door closing caused Alessandro to open his eyes. He had been awake since the boy shifted away from him, aware of his movements. As his gaze nded on the side table, he saw the yellow sticky note the boy had left behind.

  "I don't know what's good for a sick person, so I searched the internet and prepared a light breakfast for you that's easy to digest. When you wake up, reheat it. If you can't do it, call me from the ndline. My number is 320xxxxxxx. I'll be home by 19:00." — Elijah ??

  He mentioned his name at the end of the note.

  Alessandro stared at the note for a moment, the words sinking in. He rubbed the spot where Elijah had written his name, and it rolled on his tongue like a whisper. He got out of bed, his body protesting slightly as he moved toward the kitchen. There, on the counter, he saw the food—soft, gentle, fare for someone recovering from injury. A bowl of pin porridge, some scrambled eggs, and toast. The food was still steaming hot, covered to keep it from cooling too quickly

  He sat down at the small table, staring at it for a long time, as though lost in thought. It was the first meal he had since the previous morning, and something about it—about the quiet gesture—struck him deeper than he would admit.

  He picked up the spoon and began eating, the warmth of the food filling his stomach. For some reason, his chest felt a little warmer, too.

  Once he finished, Alessandro left the kitchen and returned to the room. He stood by the window, gazing out at the distant city, his thoughts distant and unreadable.

  ——————

  After some time, Alessandro walked toward the dressing room. He gnced around the room, his eyes nding on the clothes. One pile appeared to be Elijah's—smaller in size, clearly suited for someone of his short build—while another set seemed rger, belonging to someone else entirely. Perhaps a guest, because Elijah seemed to be living alone.

  He chose a pair of pin bck pants, quickly changing into them. The fabric was soft against his skin, comfortable. It was a minor thing, but for a moment, it offered him a sense of normalcy amidst everything else.

  Once dressed, Alessandro left the house. As he stepped outside, he saw the familiar bck car waiting for him at the curb. He got in without a word, the door closing softly behind him. Inside the car were three men. His driver, Marco, sat at the wheel, his stoic face set in concentration. Next to him, in the front passenger seat, was Stefano, Alessandro's trusted secretary. In the back seat, beside him, sat his other confidant, Matteo—calm and silent as always.

  "Young master," Stefano began, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. "Yesterday the organization was in chaos."

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow but didn't respond immediately. He wasn't surprised by Stefano's words. He knew exactly what had happened after his actions the night before.

  Stefano continued, "When we arrived at the bar with our men, you were nowhere to be found. But we didn’t leave it at that—we wiped out everyone who was still breathing. One of them was kept alive. We dragged him out and started torturing him. He hasn’t said a word yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Soon enough, he’ll be singing like a parrot."

  Alessandro listened in silence, then spoke with a calm finality. “No need to waste your time. Just kill him. The whole thing was orchestrated by my uncle. I’m certain of it. That old bastard has shed all his pretense now that some of the organization’s factions are on his side. He’s not even hiding it anymore and becoming bold day by day.”

  Stefano added further, “After you handled the situation—killing all those men, including your father's right-hand man, Antonio's heir—it's thrown the entire organization into turmoil. His factions are out for blood. They want you dead or alive.”

  Alessandro nodded, his expression calm as always. "I'm not concerned about them. We will handle them one by one. But what did the old man say."

  “Master hasn't made any statements regarding these matters, I think he's waiting for you to comeback first.” Replied Mathew.

  Alessandro's lips twisted into a slight, unreadable smile. He had suspected as much. His uncle had always been ambitious, but now, it seemed, he was desperate. Alessandro wasn't surprised. He'd been pying the game long enough to recognize the moves of those around him.

  He hummed in response, his gaze turning toward the passing scenery as if lost in thought. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low. "I want you to investigate someone for me. His name is Elijah. I was in his house st night.

  Marco gnced at him in confusion. "Elijah?"

  "Yes. Find out everything about him. See if he has any connections to any organization. Don't leave even the slightest thing behind."

  Stefano nodded, his expression serious. "Understood. We'll look into it right away."

  Alessandro's mind shifted back to the present. He checked the files Matteo handed him, his eyes scanning through the details—information about the men he had eliminated the previous night, reports from his contacts, and the mess left behind. He skimmed over it quickly before turning to Matteo.

  "Make sure everything is in order," Alessandro said. "I don't want any loose ends. I want them to regret the very moment they decided to attack me."

  Mathew gave a sinister smile. "As always."

  Stefano caught the smirk on Mathew’s face—and it made his skin crawl. He had seen that smile before. It was the kind of expression no human should ever have to witness. The cruelty that lived in Mathew and Alessandro was unmatched, but Mathew... Mathew was something worse. He wasn’t just brutal—he was brilliant. The kind of man who found pleasure in watching others suffer, who took his time, guiding his victims slowly toward death like it was an art form. Stefano shuddered at the thought. Taking your own life, would be a mercy compared to dying at Mathew’s hands… or being tortured personally by Alessandro.

  The car soon pulled up to a private medical clinic, where Alessandro went to see the doctor who worked for him. He needed his wound checked. Despite the chaos, he hadn't forgotten his injury. His body still ached, but it would heal in time—he just had to be cautious. The doctor, a quiet older man named Dr. Rizzo, cleaned the wound and dressed it again, prescribing antibiotics to avoid any infection. He gave Alessandro stern instructions to rest.

  "You've been through quite a lot," Dr. Rizzo said, his voice tinged with concern. "Take it easy, Alessandro. This isn't something to ignore."

  Alessandro gave a curt nod, acknowledging the doctor's care, though he wasn't in the mood for prolonged rest. He had pns, and they didn't involve waiting around.

  When he returned to Elijah's home, it was still early, and the house was quiet. He hadn't made any firm decisions about his next steps, but he knew staying here for a few more days was wise. He needed time to pn.

  Since his birth into the di Verdi family, Alessandro had always been under threat. Sometimes from rivals, sometimes from within his own organization or sometime from his own flesh and blood. He never felt truly rested; both friends and foes had always been at his throat. The scars on his body were the witnesses to his struggles and pain.

  All these things had made him heartless—so much so that his hands were soaked with the blood of his own retives. He would strike back, and strike hard.

  As he walked through the door, Alessandro found Elijah's note still on the side table—the one that had been left for him earlier. He read it again. It seemed so simple, yet the care in Elijah's words—caring for a man he barely knew—struck him. It was a gesture Alessandro hadn't experienced in years.

  Alessandro stood there for a moment, lost in thought. His fingers brushed lightly over the paper before he tucked it into his pocket. He had more pressing matters to attend to, but something about Elijah lingered in his mind.

  He gnced back at the room where he had spent the night. The bed was empty now, the pce still and quiet.

  He couldn't afford to rex. But for now, he was content to stay here and pn. He couldn't afford any distractions—not until everything was set into motion.